issue 34 > poetry
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Envying Vishnu
by Astrid Cabral. Translated by Alexis Levitin.I will never escape
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envying Vishnu
his multiple arms. -
Obstacle
by Astrid Cabral. Translated by Alexis Levitin.Because of poetry
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beans burn
milk spills
change is forgotten -
Cross-eyed Ways
by Astrid Cabral. Translated by Alexis Levitin.We poets
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live a life
like anyone else
except for our -
Domicile
by Charles CantalupoNight of the first freeze and I rush out to cover our annuals –
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Coleus, elephant ears, impatiens, other things I bought
Over the summer but now I can’t remember what they’re called:
No more exotic than Strobilanthes and Draceana,
Persian Shields, Green Spikes and Hypoestes all polka dotted. -
Cogitation
by Kelly CherryTo think is to be, said Descartes,
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but maybe not, maybe to be
is to think, -
We Pray for These and All
by Kelly Cherryworms that plow the earth
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minerals buried dark-deep in time
reclusive fossils and those
that never formed—life
that left no mark, none
not even a signature X -
Blowback
by Kelly CherryRich and strange as a sea-change is outer space,
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where energetic electrons blown back to earth
pitch streams of ionized gas toward the poles. -
Advice for My Comrades
by A.M. Juster“Farewell” is hard until you try it,
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as when we gave up on gluten. -
Loot
by A.M. JusterI was finishing my toast
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and an article in the paper
about piracy of luxury products
when all of a sudden I could not dislodge
from my mind this vivid image
of a leering sociopathic captain
decked out in Johnny Depp black -
Why Verse Should Be Free Range
by A.M. JusterIt seems ridiculous
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to write free verse. -
You and I at Breakfast
by A.M. JusterOur solitary goldfish is mouthing
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something I can’t quite discern
despite my close attention. -
The Purpose of Good Fences
by A.M. JusterI spent the afternoon laconically
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fixing pickets on my fence
to keep out poets. -
Emily Dickinson's Restraining Order
by A.M. JusterIt arrived around 9:30 a.m.
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while I was in the kitchen
waiting for my toast -
When All Becomes No Where
by Sandra KolankiewiczIn my dream I heard a bird that sounded
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like a child calling, “Mom! Mom!” like she used
to do when I wasn’t paying attention. -
Bad Company
by Sandra KolankiewiczHigh above the Kentucky blue grass, you
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were letting someone down, turning a
person in, drawing a soul up a path -
The Invisible in the Unexpected
by Sandra KolankiewiczWhat are they telling me that I cannot
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hear, see only the sun appearing to set
on the wrong side of the house as if the
earth has shifted since I took my nap and woke -
the gods again
by Donald Kuspitthey disappoint,
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words being worthless
to them,
frozen buds being more brittle. -
new gods i
by Donald KuspitO bless the old staleness
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with fresh light,
become the innocence
in emptiness,
the eternity
history forgot. -
new gods ii
by Donald KuspitO the misery of meaning,
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when you have none,
only presence,
in the blink of an eye, -
new gods iii
by Donald Kuspityou become clear
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with the final folly
of it all,
the spark of intuition
still flickering
in the ashes
of ancient thought, -
in homage to death xx
by Donald Kuspitthe gods in their glory,
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i in my wonder,
dissipate in dull thunder. -
in homage to death xxi
by Donald Kuspitfolly inseparable from wisdom,
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silence supporting
the burden of it all,
atlas uncrushed by the inevitable,
the myth outrunning reality,
the tortoise
always smarter than the rabbit. -
beloved i
by Donald Kuspitembrace of light,
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you shredded my darkness,
leaving it limping
in time, -
beloved ii
by Donald Kuspityou with your breasts
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and body
have become my bounty,
your smile
and laughter
the gift of the gods, -
beloved iii
by Donald Kuspitpreserved in the amber
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of emptiness
you become myth, -
My Past Lives
by John RidlandWhy I swim In my last past life I was a Shetland Selkie,
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always amorous, always in love,
swimming spirals around my Intended
before we coupled. I drowned in desire. -
Fishing for Names Dropped in the Past
by John RidlandOne dropped name leads to another. Who was the guy
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who used to fix our old brown Dodge sedan
in Berkeley, on that through street parallel
to ours––Milpas! No, that’s in Santa Barbara. -
On The Tight-Wire
by John RidlandNow I approach my Eightieth, climbing
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the rope of the years, knot over knot, -
Funereal Hymn
by John RidlandSo-and-So died today,
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which is to say
his essences,
his seven senses––
taste, hearing, touch, scent, sight,
insight, and oversight––
deserted him, they simply slipped away, -
His Paws Upon The Dish
by Hollis RobbinsErwin Schrödinger had, in fact, a cat;
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His name was Milton, and he was a stray. -
De Guello
by Mark RudmanThe phone call, the plan, to reunite with your boarding school friend Rick
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who schooled you in the art of what could be done with a deck of cards,
and go to, where else, if not, Mexico, first stop Cuernavaca, -
Night Train to Orivietto
by Mark RudmanA woman I just spoke to, and thought I knew,
just revealed the sources and springs of what she callsa discouraged childhood. She lives in pitch blackness.
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Bay of Naples
by Lee SlonimskyThe awning matched our drinks. Pink lemonade,
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and all before us white-frilled blue, and haze
and just a hint of rain. A trio played -
Farewell Sokolievka, 1941
by Philip SultzIt was thirty miles north of Uman
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where Mendl sang a melody that his
wife often played on the piano, -
Fake Flowers, I
by Alice TeeterOne year
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your mother got tired
of planting her garden. -
Fake Flowers, II
by Alice TeeterYour mother kept a vase
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a bouquet of silk flowers
under a spot light -
Panes
by Alice TeeterWhen your mother was your age
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she lived alone, like you do.
She walked everywhere
and never drove,
you don’t know where she went. -
Four-Scoring
by Lewis TurcoI am feeling kind of weighty
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Since I've finished turning eighty --
For I never should have gotten here at all.
Poets ought to die by thirty